Life, Out of Order
by Phosphorescent
Summary: Because life doesn't always go as planned. And Tony's never been one for following the rules anyway. A bucket list fic. *Update: After the team parts ways into the dark Christmas night, the two Anthony DiNozzos watch "A Christmas Story" together. Mild spoilers for 10x10: "You Better Watch Out."*
1. A Crucial Conversation

_Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS._**  
**

_A/N: OK, so everyone has written one of these; that doesn't stop me from wanting to hop on the bandwagon, though. ;-) Hopefully I'll manage to make my version of Tony's bucket list slightly different.  
_

_There will be some Tony/Ziva in this fic, but it isn't really the point. The point of this fic is Tony, growing and coming to terms with himself, his life, and the people in it. Updates will probably be far apart… my apologies in advance.  
_

* * *

**Chapter One: A Crucial Conversation**

✔#26: Tell her.

* * *

"Hey, I know we haven't talked in a long time. I was really angry when you first left me, you know? I loved you. Still do, even if it just feels like a distant memory some days. Just be glad no one else is nearby, or you'd never get me to admit any of this.

So how are things? You still keeping everyone in line there? Now _why_ doesn't that surprise me? You were always good at that.

Me? Yeah, I guess my life is going well. I'm still working at NCIS with Gibbs and Tim. I don't think I ever told you about our newest team member, did I? Yeah, her name is Ziva David. Smart, sassy, dangerous; she used to be Mossad.

Speaking of dangerous women, I ran into Wendy a couple of months ago. Crazy, right? She finally told me why she didn't marry me… apparently I was too perfect for her or something. I sort of get that, but mostly I'm still irritated with her. Whatever. Bygones are bygones and all that, right?

…She's got a kid, you know.

Why yes, I _am_ still a bit afraid of kids. Thanks for asking.

They're just… terrifying little minions of darkness, that's why!

Huh. You always could see through me. But no, I don't want to discuss it.

Uh… I don't want to talk about her either. How did you know, anyway? I mean, yeah, you were always scary perceptive, but… _c'mon_. This is the first time I've ever even _mentioned_ her!

Oh. OK, that does make sense. She said something like that to me once, about how she can tell if something's serious if I'm _not_ talking about it.

Yeah, I'll tell her. Someday. Maybe.

But that wasn't the point of this conversation! The thing is… I guess what I wanted to say is… I forgive you. For leaving me and all that. I know it wasn't your choice, but I blamed you for it anyway because it was easier.

So… I forgive you. And I'm sorry.

I miss you, Mom. And, uh, thanks for listening."

* * *

_A/N, continued: Happy mother's day to those of you who live in the United States! (And to the rest of you, of course, but different countries choose different days to celebrate it.)_


	2. The Bare Truth

_Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS._

* * *

**Chapter Two: The Bare Truth**

✔#16: Ride a Ferris wheel naked. (oops… did that already)

* * *

It was a classic tale of a young man and his beers. And his fraternity brothers. And a couple of really hot chicks. And one double-_double_-dog dare.

"… and so I upheld the admittedly sketchy DiNozzo family honor and bared all… for Truth, Justice, and the American Way," Tony concluded triumphantly to his audience of two.

"For your ego and the possibility of sex, you mean," Ziva snorted.

"Well _duh_," Tony replied. "What part of 'the American Way' didn't you get, Ziva?"

"I'm still trying to scrub the disturbing images out of my mind," McGee groaned. "Kids ride on those things you know, Tony."

"Which is why I was arrested for indecent public exposure, McPrude," Tony said, rolling his eyes.

"Got a criminal record I should know about, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked dryly, emerging from around the corner.

"Uh, no boss," Tony said promptly. "Law-abiding citizen here. Ziva, on the other hand…"

Ziva gaped at Tony indignantly, then smirked as Gibbs gave him a head slap.

"Get back to work," Gibbs ordered.

The team scrambled to do just that.


	3. From the Files of Anthony DiNozzo Junior

_Disclaimer: I still don't own NCIS. Also, I am not Roger Ebert, nor do I claim to officially represent his views._

_A/N: I am so sorry for taking so long to update this story! For whatever the reason, this chapter gave me a lot of grief. But no matter how long I go in between updates, I_ will_ complete this story eventually._

* * *

**Chapter Three: From the Files of Anthony DiNozzo, Jr.**

✔#7: Write a letter to Roger Ebert re: his reviews of _Full Metal Jacket _and_ Benji the Hunted_.

* * *

Dear Roger (do you mind if I call you Roger?),

I like to think that we're friends, Roger, and friends tell each other the truth even when it hurts. Usually you and I see eye to eye when it comes to the wonderful world of cinema. And even when we don't, I typically understand where you're coming from. Regarding _Full Metal Jacket_ and _Benji the Hunted_, however, I have to respectfully disagree with your reviews (and register utter bafflement).

_Full Metal Jacket_ is a modern classic and your 2.5 star review of it is a travesty (especially when compared to your 4 star review of the decidedly lackluster _Benji the Hunted_… but we'll get to that later). Rather than a "strangely shapeless film," _FMJ_ is a meticulously plotted masterpiece. Every scene serves a purpose in the grand scheme of the movie, and every scene reinforces the movie's themes of duality and chaos. Although it is true that _FMJ_ has a fragmented feel to it, that fragmentation is purposeful. Similarly, the movie's "anticlimactic" second half is also intentional. The viewer is _supposed_ to feel let down, _supposed_ to feel confused and disenchanted both with the movie-as-story and with the movie-as-framing-device. A common theme in Vietnam War stories is that of the disillusionment of the American public – particularly its military members. Therefore, what could be more appropriate than for a movie about the Vietnam War to end on an anticlimactic note?

You argue that "You can only watch so much footage of a man crouched behind a barrier, pinned down by sniper fire, before the situation turns into a cinematic cliché" and say that too many other war movies have shown this exact same scene. However, there's a reason why this particular scene is such a cliché in war movies and that's because it's what war is _like_. I'm sorry if it isn't cinematically innovative, but scenes depicting men crouching behind barriers are an accurate reflection of actual war; war isn't always visually exciting. By structuring _FMJ_ to reflect this truth, Kubrick gives us a peek into soldiers' lives.

In addition to providing a believable glimpse of warfare, _FMJ_ also is peopled by great characters. While there is no doubt that both Gunnery Sergeant Hartman and 'Gomer Pyle' are excellently portrayed, I would argue that the film's other characters are equally fascinating. Although frequently overshadowed by the two aforementioned characters, Cowboy, Eightball and Doc Jay are all fully-realized individuals, as is Animal Mother. And who among us can forget Joker? _FMJ_'s all too often underrated star Matthew Modine puts in an incredible performance in this movie, tracing the evolution of a young recruit to a hardened soldier. In fact, I would argue that _FMJ _is like a fine wine – not only does it need to be savored, but you can't fully appreciate it the first time that you have it. Did you watch _FMJ _more than once, Roger? If not, I suggest trying it; the movie improves dramatically upon a second viewing.

While there is no doubt that _Full Metal Jacket_ has its flaws, all movies have flaws, even those given your vaunted 4 star rating. In the end, _FMJ_ reminds its audience of the costs of warfare and manages to raise important questions without ever sounding didactic. Plus, there are good action sequences. What more could you ask for from a war flick?

As for _Benji the Hunted_… did you and I watch the same movie? Don't get me wrong, Benji and the cougar cubs are cute, but that's pretty much the only redeeming feature of this film. And looks alone don't qualify films for four stars. (If they did, every blockbuster on the market would win a high rating due to their female stars' hotness.) _Benji_'s plot is weak, its characters are one-dimensional, and its sap-level is over the top. Frankly, the whole movie is so treacly that it gives me a toothache… and I say this as a guy who loves his sweets.

Despite my confusion over your reviews of these two films, I want to reiterate that you have my deepest respect for your years of service to an at times unappreciative public. Film-reviewing isn't for the faint of heart, but it is a noble craft. I wish you the best of luck in the years to come!

Sincerely,

Anthony DiNozzo, Jr.

-–- -–- -–-

Tony paused, reading over the email.

Was it too formal? Too casual?

Hmm… maybe he should put in some more specific examples to illustrate his points…?

"Dead petty officer at Gambrill State Park," Gibbs said curtly, slamming his phone back onto the receiver. "Grab your gear."

"On it, Boss," Tony said, quickly saving the email to his drafts folder.

He'd finish the letter later.

-–- -–- -–-

A month after he'd sent his considerably-longer (and polished) masterpiece of an email to the famous film critic, Tony woke up to a surprising new email in his inbox.

"_Dear Mr. DiNozzo_," it said. "_(Is it alright if I call you Anthony?) I very much appreciated your thoughtful email. While you made some excellent points, I am afraid that my opinion of both movies remains as it was. But rest assured that you are in good company: my esteemed colleague Gene Siskel would have vehemently seconded your opinions. - Roger Ebert P.S. You mentioned that while you enjoyed Full Metal Jacket, you did not think that it was Kubrick's best work; out of curiosity, which of his films do you think was his best?_"

And with that email, a correspondence began that would continue until the film critic's death several decades later.

(Tony never did change Roger Ebert's mind about _Full Metal Jacket _or _Benji the Hunted. _But he was kind of OK with that.)


	4. Larger Than Life

_Disclaimer: I still don't own NCIS.  
_

* * *

**Chapter Four: Larger Than Life  
**

✔18. Visit Bogie's grave.

* * *

The team ended up in Glendale, California for a couple of days one year. Normally any crimes in that area would have fallen under the jurisdiction of the LA division of NCIS, but Gibbs had fought hard for this particular case, as the victim in question – a dead Armenian-American naval officer – had been linked to another case of theirs.

After they'd solved the case and apprehended the murderer, the team had still had a day and a half left in the city before their flight was due to depart from LAX.

While McGee prudently retired to the hotel to catch up on sleep and Gibbs went off to do… whatever Gibbs usually did, Tony decided to take advantage of the situation and do a little sight-seeing. Having never been in Southern California before, Ziva opted to tag along.

They spent the majority of the day walking around downtown LA. They visited Madame Tussaud's ("not as good as the original," Ziva muttered (although that did not stop her from posing with a mannequin of Johnny Depp)), watched a film at Grauman's Chinese Theatre, and took pictures of themselves next to assorted stars along the Hollywood Walk of Fame (a constant stream of movie trivia helpfully provided by Tony).

Later in the day, they cruised Sunset Strip in their rental car and did a little window shopping along Rodeo Drive. (Even Tony, with his taste for fine suits, couldn't justify paying _that_ much for anything.)

As they sat at a table with their freshly-purchased ice cream cones, Tony finally brought up the one thing he'd really been hoping to do.

"So, uh, I was thinking about taking a look at the Forest Lawn Park Memorial Cemetery," he told Ziva as nonchalantly as he could manage.

"A cemetery?" Ziva asked.

"Yeah. It's the final resting spot for lots of famous people," he explained with a small shrug.

"Are you sure you would not rather see another movie?" Ziva asked, baffled by his seemingly sudden interest in looking at dead people.

"I'm sure," he told her.

Once in the cemetery, Tony asked an employee where Humphrey Bogart's grave was. The answer – tersely given – was that it was in a private garden that wasn't open to the public.

Frustrated and defeated, Tony sunk onto a bench.

If he couldn't cross something as simple as this off his bucket list, what did that mean for some of the other things on it?

"This was important to you," Ziva said quietly in a question that wasn't really a question.

Tony shrugged.

"It doesn't matter," he muttered, giving her his best plastered-on smile. "It was kind of stupid, anyway."

Frowning slightly, Ziva said, "If it is important to you, then it is most certainly not stupid."

A look of concentration graced her face and then the creases in her forehead suddenly lightened.

"One minute," she told him, patting his hand lightly, and walked off.

Several minutes later, she returned.

"Come with me," she told him.

"Uh, Ziva?" Tony said, quickening his steps to catch up with her.

"Mmm?"

"Where are we going?"

Ziva simply murmured, "You will see."

They ended up outside a walled-off garden.

Ziva leaned over the lock on the gate and did something that Tony couldn't see. Still, he was only mildly surprised when there was a quiet _beep_ and a green light flashed.

A mischievous look in her eyes, Ziva opened the gate.

"Well?" she asked. "Are you coming?"

"Is this legal?" he asked cautiously.

"It is not _il_legal," she returned.

Shrugging yet again – sometimes it really was better not to know – Tony followed her.

They found Bogart's gravestone without too much trouble. Seemingly understanding his desire for quiet, Ziva stood silently by his side as he paid his respects.

As they left, Ziva placed a pebble on the plaque bearing Bogart's name.

Both remained silent on their way back to the car. It was only once they were seated that Tony started to talk.

"My mom was a huge fan of Bogie's. _Huge_. We watched lots of his films when I was growing up."

Although he didn't say it out loud, Bogie had been a sort of role model to him in his youth, a father figure for a boy whose father never had time for him.

He didn't say it, but he had always admired and identified with the rebellious actor. Like himself, Bogart had been an indifferent student who didn't live up to his family's Ivy League expectations. Both Tony and Bogart had pursued careers that their families deemed plebian and both had worked for the Navy in some capacity. Like Tony, Bogart had loathed phonies and pretentious snobs, and like Tony, Bogart had been known for his unconventional methods.

Unlike Tony, however, Bogie had been decisive; he had known what he wanted from life and he had taken it. Tony envied that.

Tony said none of this, but he suspected that Ziva read some of it in his face.

"'Himself, he never took too seriously – his work most seriously,'" Ziva murmured. "That was in a eulogy about him, yes?"

Tony nodded, too surprised to speak.

"How do you know that speech?" he asked at last.

"I took an online film class a few years ago," Ziva told him. "The professor was also a fan of, uh, _Bogie_."

"Ziva David, you sneaky little minx," he said, a grin creeping onto his face. "You've been studying movies without telling me."

A smile twitched at the corner of her mouth.

"Here's looking at you, kid," Tony murmured, turning onto the highway.

* * *

_A/N: Another quote from John Huston's eulogy for Bogart: "His shafts were fashioned only to stick into the outer layer of complacency, and not to penetrate through to the regions of the spirit where real injuries are done." If that doesn't say Tony, then I don't know what does._


	5. Finding that Rhythm

_Disclaimer: I still don't own NCIS._

* * *

**Chapter Five: Finding that Rhythm  
**

✔#13: Learn to play the bass.**  
**

* * *

He signed up for bass guitar lessons on a rare free weekend.

His teacher, a deceptively sweet-looking woman in her early sixties, helped him re-string and tune his bass. She also taught him how to clean it. This last part was particularly important since the guitar (an inheritance from one of his grandfathers) had sat in storage for over a decade, gathering dust and grime.

He had always meant to learn how to play the bass, but life had kept getting in the way. Eventually, however, he'd realized that life would always keep getting in the way – as long as he was alive, at any rate – so he'd have to _make_ the time to learn.

That's what the bucket list was for, after all.

So now here he was, a student again in his late thirties. Although sweet-looking, his instructor was capable of being every bit as formidable as Gibbs. And, like Gibbs, she accepted no excuses – only results. With this lady as his teacher, he couldn't slack off on practicing.

(Fortunately, however, she was flexible when it came to lesson times, as Tony's work schedule didn't always permit for regular appointments.)

A chatty woman, Helen Murray regularly shared tidbits about her life, including what her son's family was up to and stories about the wacky residents of the apartment complex she owned.

So while he learned about root notes, he learned about her son Bobby, his wife Mary, and their three children. While he learned fingering techniques, he learned about a male tenant with exhibitionist tendencies who never paid his rent on time. And while he learned palm-muting techniques, he learned about the Yoga, Pilates, and Yogalates (apparently this was a real thing) classes that she attended.

This last topic of conversation got him thinking.

"Hey," he asked her after one lesson, "do you know anyone who teaches Kung Fu in the area?"

"I'm sorry," Helen replied. "I've never done any martial arts. …Unless…"

She trailed off in thought.

"Unless?" he prompted her.

"Well, I have a tenant who I do Pilates with sometimes," she said thoughtfully. "She's into lots of martial arts. I could ask her, if you like."

"Maybe you could just give me her contact information?" Tony said.

"Oh no, dear," she replied. "I'm afraid that Ziva's very big on her privacy."

Tony froze in disbelief.

"Wait, wait, wait… Ziva," he said. "Your martial arts expert's name is _Ziva_?"

How many Zivas could there be in D.C.?

"Yes," Helen said, frowning a bit.

"Ziva _David_?" he asked.

"Do you know her?" she asked.

"Yeah," Tony said, still in a daze. "We, uh, we work together. We're friends."

"You are _Tony_!" Helen exclaimed suddenly.

"Yeah, I thought we'd established that a while ago," Tony said with a grin.

"No, no, you are the Tony that Ziva tells stories about," Helen said. "What a small world!"

Her expression was a bit too knowing for his comfort.

And… Ziva told stories about him?

"Whatever she's told you are lies… except for the good things," he assured her smoothly. "But, uh, just for the record, what _has_ she said about me?"

Helen merely smiled.

Over time, Tony moved from playing note exercises to playing simple songs, and from simple songs to more complex ones.

He'd never be a Jaco Pastorius or an Avishai Cohen, but his proficiency eventually became such that he felt entirely comfortable checking off #13 on his bucket list.

Oh, and a bonus? His air guitar moves were _twice_ as good now.

* * *

_A/N: According to musikalessonsDOTcom, "When one thinks of the elements of music often rhythm is what comes to mind. The Bass Guitar is the glue that holds the rhythm together." Considering Tony's role on the team, I find it oddly appropriate that the bass is his instrument of choice._


	6. Strangers in a Store

_Disclaimer: Despite my best efforts, NCIS still doesn't belong to me.__  
_

* * *

**Chapter Six: Strangers in a Store  
**

✔#11: Watch all Hitchcock films in order of release (including both versions of _The Man Who Knew Too Much_), pausing only for bathroom breaks.

* * *

Matt Cooper glanced up from his book at the familiar jingling sound. It was twenty minutes until closing and 'DVDs R Us' had a customer.

Hmm, make that two customers: a man and a woman, both dressed in conventional work attire despite the late hour.

"Hello, welcome to DVDs R Us," he said to the couple, hoping his voice didn't betray his utter boredom. "I'm Matt. If you have any questions, please don't hesitate to ask me."

The (very attractive) woman nodded at him politely, but the man seemed entirely oblivious. Clearly on a mission, the man strode over the Horror/Thriller section, the woman following him.

From his seat at the front of the store, he could see the woman shaking her head.

"I am surprised that you do not already own every Hitchcock movie, Tony," she said. Her voice had a strange lilt. Combined with her darkly exotic looks, he guessed she was either from the Middle East or South America… OK, so he'd always sucked at guessing people's nationalities.

The man – Tony – replied, "Which I deeply regret, I assure you. But Hitchcock movies don't come cheap and all of the Hitchcock sets that I've seen include movies that I already own."

"Why not simply stream them?" the woman asked.

"Normally I would," Tony said. "But for any sort of movie marathon, you need the physical videos for the proper experience. Besides, I like to do my part to keep the movie rental stores afloat. They're a dying breed nowadays, but I remember when every town worth its salt had at _least_ two of 'em. When I was a kid, going to the movie rental place was always a special treat. Our store shared the building with a Baskin Robbins, making it the ultimate hang-out spot. And then in college –"

"If we start on your college stories," the woman said with a wry smile, "we will not locate the movies you want before this store closes for the night."

"Why, Ziva David, are you saying that you can't multi-task?" Tony asked.

_David_. Hmm, must be Middle-Eastern, then.

The woman – Ziva – smirked and, voice dripping with innuendo, said, "You doubt my ability to, ah, _multi-task_? When it counts, I multi-task very well indeed… as you should remember."

The man returned her smirk, saying, "Doing paperwork while simultaneously threatening to kill me doesn't count."

"That is not what I meant," Ziva replied, bending to look at the lower shelves.

Matt couldn't help but notice that this gave both himself and Tony an excellent view of her ass, and both of them were certainly appreciating it.

"What movies are we looking for again?" Ziva asked.

"Uh…" Tony replied, seemingly caught off guard. Eyes still fixed on the shapely rear before his eyes, he said, "_The Paradine Case_, _Spellbound_, _Lifeboat_,_ Juno and the Paycock_, and _Murder!_."

"You do not get enough of 'murder' at work?" she asked, pulling a few DVDs from the shelf and handing them to him.

"It's not about the _murder_," Tony told his companion in a long-suffering tone. "It's about the suspense, the mystery; the characters; the cinematography."

"Mmm," Ziva replied through pursed lips, but she had a fond look on her face. Then, pushing an errant strand of hair back from her face, she added, "I do not see _Juno and the Paycock_ or _Spellbound _anywhere."

"Are you sure?" Tony asked.

"Check for yourself," Ziva replied, standing back up.

Matt watched the retreat of her ass with disappointment.

A few minutes' worth of searching later: "You're right. They aren't here."

"Mmm, I like the sound of that," Ziva said.

"Glad that my disappointment brightens your day," Tony groused.

Ziva smirked and responded, "Always. Actually, it was the first sentence that I appreciated. You rarely admit that I am right even though I almost always am."

Tony shook his head in amusement. "Uh, first of all? You aren't always right, Ziva. And secondly? Why on god's green earth would I tell you that you're right if all you're going to do is lord it over me?"

Ziva tossed her hair and said, "We should ask the clerk if the store has either of the movies."

Oh. Right. Crap!

Matt turned away from his obvious eavesdropping just in time.

"Excuse me," Ziva said, sauntering up to the front desk, "could you check to see if you have Hitchcock's _Juno and the Paycock_ or _Spellbound_ here?"

"Sure," Matt replied.

A couple of taps on the keyboard of the computer yielded the answer. _Results found: 0._

"Sorry," he told her. "We don't carry either of those."

"Thank you anyway," Ziva said with a sigh.

"This," Tony said, joining them, "is an outrage. I mean, I understand not carrying _Juno and the Paycock_ – it wasn't what you'd call critically-acclaimed or a box office hit, but not having _Spellbound_? _Spellbound _broke every record in London when it came out in 1945. It went on to win the Academy Award for Best Original Score for a Dramatic Picture and was nominated in _five_ other categories. Not only is it a Hitchcock classic, but Salvador Dalí was in charge of some of its scenes and Ingrid Bergman starred in it. How can you not have _Spellbound_?"

"Hey man, I don't choose what movies we carry," Matt said defensively.

"I'm just saying, it's a travesty that classics like _Spellbound_ aren't on the shelves while –" Tony gingerly picked up a movie from the 'Just In' section and dangled it from his fingers, a moue of distaste evident on his face – "movies like _Gone_ are."

"Yes, yes, Western cinema culture is deteriorating, we know," Ziva said in amused exasperation.

"You mock me, but it's a real problem," Tony said, wagging a finger in emphasis.

Acutely aware of the time, Matt coughed to get their attention.

"Is there anything else I can help you with?" he asked pointedly. "Cause if there isn't, you need to check your movies out; it's five 'til we close."

Grumbling under his breath, Tony placed the stack of DVDs on the counter and proceeded to fish his wallet out of a trouser pocket.

Matt couldn't make out all of the words, but he caught the phrase "finally _not_ on call over the weekend and then this happens."

"Tony," Ziva said, "we can always buy those two DVDs at Books & More if it is that important, yes?"

"Assuming Books & More carries them," Tony muttered, handing Matt his credit card.

Having scanned the DVDs, Matt swiped the card and gave Tony the receipt.

"Signature, please," Matt said. "The DVDs are due back in three days."

Tony quickly signed the receipt and shoved it at him.

"Thank you for choosing DVDs R Us," Matt intoned as Tony and Ziva left the store.

Entertaining as those two customers had been, it had been a _long_ day.

After turning off the lights and locking up the store, he pulled out his phone and dialed his friend.

"Hey, Tyler," Matt said into his cell phone. "I'm off work… finally."

"Cool, dude. What kept you so long?"

"This crazy couple came in just before closing to check out a couple of Hitchcock movies. The guy practically threw a fit when we couldn't find _Spellbound_. Thank god his girlfriend calmed him down or I'd still be there…"

_-–-–-–-–-–-–-–-–_

Two weeks later, Matt was the employee at the checkout counter when Tony returned the DVDs. Unfortunately, the extremely attractive Ziva wasn't along with him this time.

"Your late fee total comes to forty-three dollars and fifty-nine cents. Hope the movies were worth it."

Tony shrugged as he pulled out his wallet and started counting out bills.

"Yeah," Tony said, almost to himself. "It was worth it."

_Dee-do-loo-loo-dee-dee-dee!_

_Dee-do-loo – _

"Sorry," Tony apologized, reaching for his phone and flipping it open.

"Hey, Jimmy, what's up?"

_Pause._

"Yeah, the late fee's as bad as we thought. But with the past couple of weeks we've had – "

_Pause._

"I know, I still can't believe that Abby had never seen _Strangers on a Train_ either!"

_Pause._

"Just for that, movie night is going to be at yours and Breena's next time. Look, I'm still at the video store, so –"

_Pause._

"Yep."

Tony snapped the phone shut and turned back to Matt.

"How much do I owe you again?"

Matt stifled a groan.

It was going to be another long day.

* * *

✔#24. Let friends get closer.

* * *

___A/N: Sorry for taking so long to update! If you have a few seconds to spare, I'd love to hear your thoughts on this chapter.  
_


	7. Number by Number

_Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS. Really._

_A/N: In my head canon, Tony keeps the bucket list in his jacket pocket most of the time. Not only does this make it easier for him to check items off as he completes them, but its close proximity also reminds him of his goals. Unfortunately for Tony, it's all too easy for a slip of paper to fall out of a pocket unnoticed…_

_This chapter took me a while to write, as I feel that it's one of the major turning points in this story. Thoughts?_

* * *

**Chapter Seven: Number by Number**

✔#17: Get and pass on Gibbs' recipe for steak.

* * *

Gibbs was the last one out of the office that night. He was nearly to the elevator when he saw a neatly folded bit of paper lying on the ground.

Mentally grumbling at idiot agents who couldn't throw away their own trash, he picked it up and tucked it into his coat pocket, intending to bin it as soon as he got home.

Later that evening, he was fishing in his coat pocket for a pen when his fingers encountered the slip of paper again. He pulled it out and was about to toss it into the trash when he noticed the numbers, their bold font making them visible even through the multiple layers of paper. Curiosity getting the better of him, he unfolded the sheet and glanced at it.

A quick scan of the paper (entitled 'Bucket List') left no doubt as to the writer's identity.

As for the items on the list…

_Huh._

He had some thinking to do.

-–- -–- -–-

The next morning, he went into work early and left the re-folded bucket list on DiNozzo's desk by his computer. Attached to it was a sticky note that said 'Tonight. My house. Eight o'clock. – Gibbs.'

-–- -–- -–-

That night, a nervous looking DiNozzo turned up at his house and followed him into the kitchen.

"Hey, Boss," he said.

Gibbs greeted him with a nod.

"So," DiNozzo said, tone half-imploring, half-defensive, "You probably wanna know what's up with some of the stuff on that list, huh?"

"Nope," Gibbs said, reaching into the refrigerator.

DiNozzo frowned and said, "No offense, but why am I here then?"

Gibbs pulled out the plate from the refrigerator and let the door fall shut with a muffled slam.

"Number seventeen," he said.

"Haven't heard that one yet," DiNozzo said. "Is it anything like Rule #18?"

Raising an eyebrow, Gibbs replied, "You wrote it, DiNozzo."

It took a few seconds for the meaning of that statement to penetrate his SFA's brain.

DiNozzo's eyes widened slightly and he said, "Really?"

"It's no big secret," Gibbs said, putting the plate of thawed steak on the counter and pulling ingredients out from the cupboard.

"How much of each?" DiNozzo asked, watching Gibbs' movements with a close eye.

"No exact measurements," Gibbs said with a shrug as he mixed ingredients together in a bowl. "You just add stuff till it looks right, marinate it for a couple of hours, then stick it on the grill."

DiNozzo nodded silently.

"So," Gibbs added casually, pouring the marinade into a zip-lock bag, "when were you gonna tell me?"

"Tell you?" DiNozzo echoed with an uneasy chuckle.

Gibbs simply gazed steadily at the younger man and waited. There were only a few items on that particular list that required explanations, and DiNozzo wasn't stupid.

"I don't know," DiNozzo said finally with a small shrug. "Eventually. Y'know. When there was something to tell you?"

"You askin' me or telling me, DiNozzo?"

"Telling you, Boss," DiNozzo said with growing assurance.

Gibbs nodded and slid the raw steak meat into the zip-lock bag as well.

He walked over the sink and washed his hands, the silence between them intensifying.

"You gonna say anything?" DiNozzo asked at last.

Gibbs countered, "Would it make any difference?"

"I guess that would depend on what you had to say," DiNozzo said, tone casual but shoulders tense.

Gibbs dried off his hands and said, "What do you think I'm going to say?"

"Cite rule number twelve; forbid it; I don't know," DiNozzo said. "Tell me it's EJ all over again." He took a deep breath before adding in a rush, "But you'd be wrong. Ziva is… Ziva."

It seemed his SFA found Ziva's name enough of a descriptor; that, or he lacked the words to describe her properly. Perhaps both.

"And yeah, we're both fucked-up, but… she and I… I wouldn't be who I am – I couldn't do what we do without her," DiNozzo said, fumbling for the words. He paused briefly before adding, "You and I both know what happened the last time I had to face a world without her."

Yeah, Gibbs knew.

[_Dull eyes, staring blankly out at the world. _

_The first one to the office in the morning and the last one to leave at night. _

_Alcohol; lots and lots of alcohol._]

Oh, Gibbs remembered alright; that was half the problem.

"Gonna make things harder if it happens again," he warned.

"Bullshit," DiNozzo said, looking angry for the first time. "Did Jenny's death hurt any less because the two of you weren't in a relationship? Whether you act on the feelings or not, they're still _there_."

Gibbs bristled. DiNozzo had no right to bring up Jen; he had _no idea_–

"Ever think maybe it wouldn't have been as bad if we hadn't been involved in the first place?" Gibbs asked, raising an eyebrow; forcing himself to remain calm.

DiNozzo snorted. "You'd like to think that, wouldn't you? It justifies Rule #12. But you're wrong, Boss. And even if you weren't, I'd still rather have the pain of losing her than the pain of losing her _and _regrets."

Only the young said things that idiotic(ally brave). Before he could check his mouth, Gibbs said, "Jeanne teach you that?"

Silence.

"Yeah," DiNozzo said at last. "But so did you. I respect the hell out of you, Boss, but I don't want to be you. I don't want to end up in a basement with only alcohol and a boat for company. I don't want to come to the end of my life only to realize that I have nothing to show for it except career records and my pride."

Gibbs suppressed a wince at the harsh words. After taking a few tense seconds to reign in his temper, he spoke.

"You love her?"

"Yes," DiNozzo said without hesitation.

"She know yet?"

"Maybe? I hope so."

Gibbs squished the steaks around in the zip-lock bag, spreading both the marinade and the silence.

"Look… Ziva and I… we make each other better," DiNozzo said, voice growing firmer. "And no, we wouldn't be perfect together, 'cause no one is, but that's true no matter which way you look at it, right? Our friendship has survived a hell of a lot. Frankly, I can't see how any relationship problems could break us after what we've been through. We've had our trials by fire and we've come out stronger every damn time."

"And if it doesn't work out?" Gibbs asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Then we'll deal. You think I haven't thought this through a thousand times already?" DiNozzo said. "This isn't just some passing whim, Gibbs. I've weighed the consequences. But it's worth it. _Ziva_'s worth it. And if our relationship doesn't happen, that will happen on _our_ terms, not due to any of your rules."

Gibbs nodded tersely, pride and frustration vying for dominance in him.

He'd gotten what he wanted from DiNozzo: proof that the younger man was serious enough about this thing to fight him for it. (Because if DiNozzo couldn't stand up to him about it now, then it was doubtful that he'd be able to deal with the shitstorm that life was going to throw at the two of them eventually.)

"Keep it out of the office," he told DiNozzo gruffly.

DiNozzo froze, mouth open; presumably he had been about to marshal his next argument.

"And if you're gonna do it, stick with it," Gibbs said. Giving his SFA a small, wry smile, he added, "New agents take too long to train."

DiNozzo offered him a small, crooked grin in return.

There was relief in his eyes along with a surety that Gibbs had rarely seen there over the years that they'd known one another.

"Wouldn't want to make you train more probies," DiNozzo said lightly. "But for the record, Boss? We'll stay the course."

Gibbs nodded slightly and – for a split-second – he thought he could see the shape of things to come.

(And if there was a small child in that picture, learning a certain steak recipe at his father's knee? Well… Gibbs wasn't entirely against it. But he sure as hell wasn't going to think about that today. Only so many changes a man could deal with at once.)


	8. Better than Mansions

_Disclaimer: Between the last chapter and this one, I've magically been given the rights to NCIS. Not.  
_

___Tag to 10x05: "Namesake," with mild spoilers.  
_

* * *

**Chapter Eight: Better than Mansions  
**

✔#2: Drive a 1965 Aston Martin DB5 like the one in _Goldfinger_.

* * *

"That is one sweet ride," Tony admitted, glancing longingly at Vijay Chaya's cherry-red Ferrari as they dropped it off in the evidence garage.

"Even better than the… _yacht_?" Ziva asked waspishly.

Tony grinned.

"Why Ziva David, do I detect a hint of jealousy?" he asked.

Ziva snorted derisively, "It is not _that_ nice a car."

"Considering it's worth $300,000, it had better be that nice a car," Tony snorted. "But… it's not as cool as… oh, say, the 1965 Aston Martin DB5. Now _there_'s a classic."

"That is the one that James Bond uses, yes?" Ziva asked.

Tony gave her an approving look.

"Correct, my young padawan," he said. "'course, technically there were two DB5s in _Goldfinger_, one for normal driving and the other for stunt work."

"So where are they now?" Ziva asked, interested despite herself.

"Ah, that's the question, isn't it," Tony said, pressing the elevator button. "The stunt car is owned by Jerry Lee of WBEB Radio. But the star car…"

He let out a sigh. "The star car was stolen from an airport locker in 1997 and hasn't been seen since."

"Truly a tragedy," Ziva agreed solemnly, but her eyes were twinkling.

"Do not mock that which you do not understand," Tony scolded. "That car was a piece of cinematic history, even if the idiots at Aston Martin _did_ strip it of its original gadgetry in the late '60s."

_Ding_.

Exiting the elevator into the squad room, Ziva said encouragingly, "Well, you never know. Perhaps they will still find it one day."

"Yeah, maybe," Tony said with a half-hearted shrug.

"DiNozzo, David!" Gibbs barked. "Colin Boxer's personal history and military records."

"On it, Boss," Tony said, dropping his pack on the floor and getting to work.

-–- -–- -–-

That year for his birthday, Tony received a miniature replica 1965 Aston Martin DB5. The note attached to it said: "_You'll have to make do with this until you find the original; the full-size versions are out of my price range. – Ziva_"

* * *

_A/N: I debated between this ending and having McGee use his Gemcity connections to allow Tony the chance to drive a DB5. Ultimately, I decided this version was the more realistic of the two.  
_

_Also, I'm sure that you guys have noticed this as well, but I'm thrilled to see so many references to stuff on Tony's bucket list popping up on the show this season. Last episode, Tony played video games with McGee, and this episode we got to see him briefly playing a Flying V in the pawn shop (granted, it looked like it was an electric guitar Flying V rather than a bass one, but_ still_).  
_

_For those of you who live in areas affected by Hurricane Sandy, I hope you and your families are OK. And to everyone: Have a Happy Halloween, and don't forget to leave me a treat on your way out! ;-)_


	9. Letting Go

_Disclaimer: I still don't own NCIS. _

_A/N: To those of you who celebrate it, Happy New Year!  
_

_Tag to 10x10: "You Better Watch Out," with mild spoilers._

* * *

**Chapter Nine: Letting Go**

✔10. Tell Dad it's okay.

* * *

After the team parted ways into the dark Christmas night, Tony drove his dad to a nearby hotel.

At his father's puzzled look, Tony said, "We're both staying here tonight. My back can't take another night on that couch."

"I could always take the couch," Senior pointed out.

Tony shook his head firmly and grabbed his emergency overnight bag out of the car along with his dad's suitcase.

"I insist," Tony said. "Really. It's my Christmas present to the both of us: a night in a 5-star hotel with incredibly comfy beds."

Senior raised a grizzled eyebrow. "You've tested them personally?"

"It's a 5-star hotel. The beds had _better_ be comfy," Tony said tersely, doing his best not to rise to the bait.

They'd just made up after all. No need to let things deteriorate all over again in the same night.

At the front desk, Tony managed to get two non-adjoining rooms on the same floor. (Hey, if his dad ended up sleeping with the pretty young thing from said front desk (whom he was currently flirting with), the last thing Tony wanted was to walk in on that.)

He dropped his dad's suitcase off in his room.

"Want to watch a little TV before you go, Junior?" his father asked casually. "I bet there're a couple of holiday classics playing somewhere on this thing."

Tony's first instinct was to say no, but there was something hopeful in his dad's tone, and damn it, Tony still had enough of that kid desperate for his dad's attention in him to give it a go.

"Sure," Tony said, dropping his own bag onto the floor and taking a seat in one of the room's padded armchairs.

Eventually, they settled on _A Christmas Story_.

Some time into the movie, Tony said quietly, "It's OK, you know. What you did to me when I was a kid."

"It's no excuse," his dad said, voice suddenly hoarse, "but – your mother, she was the love of my life. When she died, half of me died with her. The way I treated you – it wasn't OK, Junior. I wasn't a bad father, but I sure as hell wasn't a good one."

"No, it wasn't OK," Tony agreed. "And I'm glad that you recognize that. But – I'm an adult now. And, I just want you to know: I forgive you."

His dad jerked his head in a nod and blinked his eyes hard.

"Thanks son," he said gruffly.

Tony nodded jerkily.

This didn't solve everything, didn't make up for years of being abandoned and made to feel not-good-enough.

It didn't change the fact that his dad would never fully change; that he'd always be a self-indulgent, mildly delusional bastard.

But in forgiving him – and in telling him that he'd forgiven him – Tony felt a weight lift from his shoulders.

Forgiving didn't mean forgetting. It meant acceptance. It meant coming to terms with stuff in order to move on. It meant having no regrets.

"I love you," his dad told him before he left the room later that night.

"Love you too, Dad," Tony said.


End file.
